


Come again?

by a_big_apple



Series: and it's bright [8]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Gem Sex, Gems shapeshifting human genitalia, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vibrators, Voyeurism, actually pretty soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_big_apple/pseuds/a_big_apple
Summary: Pearl and Volleyball make a very special video for Bismuth.
Relationships: Pearl/Pink Diamond’s Original Pearl | Volleyball, implied Bismuth/Pearl/Volleyball
Series: and it's bright [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619890
Comments: 18
Kudos: 72





	Come again?

Decades ago, video cameras used to have blinking red lights. Something to constantly remind you: someone was watching. Either someone there, filming, or someone later of your choice. A reminder that you were on display, that you _chose_ to reveal yourself inch by inch, every flicker of pleasure across your face and sound wrung from your throat. 

There’s no blinking red light on a cellular phone. Modern technology is even better—some clever human somewhere invented a front-facing camera, and now when you need a reminder of your audience to bring you back down to Earth, you can look down the length of Volley’s sprawled body and see yourselves reflected back. You can see the red record button, the timer that tells you you’ve been teasing her for forty-seven minutes and counting, and the strain is beginning to show. She’s come three times already, and still she’s practically vibrating in your arms, between your legs, her back to your chest and her head tipped up onto your shoulder. Her hair is slowly unraveling and she’s flushed pink from her face to her stomach, where your hand floats over her gem with moth-soft touches. Your other hand is between her legs, covering her, _pressing_ in slow pulses with the heel of your palm and curling your fingers wickedly inside. 

She knows her safeword; you triple-checked. She doesn’t say it. Instead she tips her face toward you, breathing soft, urgent bird-sounds into your neck, little trills and fluttering moans. With your legs twined with hers, you press her thighs open wider; you nuzzle her cheek and her nose and her open mouth. “You can give me one more, right? I know Bismuth would love to see you give me just one more.” This is what you said the last time, too, and though your gem is burning so hot you can feel it down to your toes, you’re waiting to hear what she’ll say.

She hiccups a little sob against the corner of your mouth. “ _Can’t_ ,” she whines, breathless. 

It’s not her safeword, so you roll your wrist a little, a slow, tidal grind against the clit you only showed her how to shapeshift a week ago. She’s doing so _well_ , she takes everything you give her so _beautifully_. “You can. I’m sure you can,” you purr, and her thighs tremble; her hands are pinned beneath you both, gripping hard at the backs of your thighs.

“ _Pearl_ ,” she pleads, and nips urgently at your jaw.

She’s just too sweet, and too far gone, for you to want to scold her. “I’ll let you choose,” you croon instead. “Do you still want my fingers inside?” A gentle thrust; a subtle curl. She moans out a breath. “Or just here?” Withdrawing slicked to the knuckles, you trail up along the rippling folds of her labia, sweeping the tips of two fingers across her swollen clit fast as a lightning strike. A shocked cry rips out of her and her hips arch up into your touch.

“There, oh stars, oh _fuck_ —”

Carefully your fingertips come to rest on either side, rolling that clever bundle of nerves between them. “Maybe you’d like a little toy inside,” you suggest, and her gem flares hotter. “Hmm?”

She nods, breathing hard, so you picture what you want in your mind’s eye and pull it from your gem: a plug, pearlescent pink, gently tapered. “How about this one?”

You know she’ll like it; you know she’ll want it. You watch her face on the screen of the phone, prying her eye open to look at what you’re offering, and you’ve never seen her so suddenly _hungry_. A moan trickles out of her mouth and she squeezes your thighs, squirms against you so deliciously you wish for a moment your gem was on your body and you could feel her skin against it. You kiss the flushed bridge of her nose, drag the plug in a line down her body that she arches into like it burns; carefully you cover her mound with your palm, roll the toy against her slick opening before pressing it steadily inside. 

It’ll stretch her, just a little, at the widest part; you watch her bite her lip and tilt her head back at the feeling. You twirl it slowly when it’s fully seated and she moans deep in her chest, a sound that zings electric through your limbs. “You’re doing so well,” you murmur over her panting, trying to smooth out the waver in your voice. “Bismuth will be so pleased when she sees this. And it’s got a surpri~ise.” With a touch, you find the button in the base, click it once, and Volley’s soft, eager sounds slide up and up the register until she’s shrilling out her shock at the vibration.

“Pearl!” she cries, squirming in your grip, overwhelmed. “I can’t, I _can’t_ —”

It’s still not her safeword, so you let a tender laugh bubble out of you and over her cheek, her open mouth, her chin where it’s pointed at the ceiling. “You can, and you will,” you tell her, and swirl your fingers over her clit.

She _sobs_ , tears squeezing out from beneath her scrunched-closed eyelid, and you might worry if you didn’t know yourself how it felt, to let go in the face of inevitable and overwhelming pleasure, to let it climb so high you can’t protect yourself from the searing force of it anymore. You’re done teasing her; your fingers on her gem and between her legs circle with matching, rhythmic urgency and she thrashes. It’s almost too much, the way all her bare, flushed skin is pressed to all of yours, writhing, making your gem burn and your brain slowly start to fizzle. Then she’s begging, frantic nonsense syllables as her gem flares brighter; you feel every inch of her trembling against you, a long, agonizing _reach_ , and then she shoves her face into your neck and _screams_. You close your eyes against the flash of her gem, hold her with cupped hands as she shakes apart then _press_ , roll your body against her back and your fingers around her clit and she spasms and shrieks out curses into your jaw, bites the skin of your neck hard enough to bruise, and that’s it—you’re gone.

You come down from the white-hot peak of pleasure to find her scrambling in your arms, heaving herself over to smear her mouth and her stomach against your body, straddling your thigh with the plug still buzzing inside her; one of her hands is stroking your hair and sweeping light as a kiss over your gem, the other is between her legs, gripping the base of the toy as though she can’t bring herself to turn it off or pull it out. 

“I can’t,” she whispers into your mouth, her face screwed up, her loosened hair sliding down like a curtain. “I can’t take another.” 

Her body moves against you like the ocean; her gem is hot as a light bulb. You wrap your hands around her narrow hips, lift your thigh into their motion. “Oh, sweetheart,” you murmur, and she sobs. “You can.”


End file.
